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Lady Baltimore-Part9_Owen Wister(1860-1938)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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"No, indeed, Aunt Josephine!" the girl agreed. "I wish he wouldn't. Did

you say it was his right eye?"



"His left." Miss Josephine St. Michael inclined her head once more to me

and went out of the Exchange. I retired to my usual table, and the girl



read in my manner, quite correctly, the feelings which I had not supposed

I had allowed to be evident. She said:--



"Aunt Josephine always makes strangers think she's displeased with them."

I replied like the young ass which I constantly tell myself I have ceased



to be: "Oh, displeasure is as much notice as one is entitled to from Miss

St. Michael."



The girl laughed with her delightful sweet mockery.

"I declare, you're huffed! Now don't tell me you're not. But you mustn't



be. When you know her, you'll know that that awful manner means Aunt

Josephine is just being shy. Why, even I'm not afraid of her George



Washington glances any more!"

"Very well," I laughed, "I'll try to have your courage." Over my



chocolate and sandwiches I sat in curiosity discreditable, but natural.

Who was in bed--who would have to shake hands? And why had they stopped



talking when I came in? Of course, I found myself hoping that John

Mayrant had put the owner of the Hermana in bed at the slight cost of a



bruise above his left eye. I wondered if the cake was again

countermanded, and I started upon that line. "I think I'll have to-day,



if you please, another slice of that Lady Baltimore." And I made ready

for another verbal skirmish.



"I'm so sorry! It's a little stale to-day. You can have the last slice,

if you wish."



"Thank you, I will." She brought it. "It's not so very stale," I said.

"How long since it has been made?"



"Oh, it's the same you've been having. You're its only patron just now."

"Well, no. There's Mr. Mayrant."



"Not for a week yet, you remember."

So the wedding was on yet. Still, John might have smashed the owner of



the Hermana.

"Have you seen him lately?" I asked.



There was something special in the way she looked. "Not to-day. Have

you?"



"Never in the forenoon. He has his duties and I have mine."

She made a little pause, and then, "What do you think of the President?"



"The President?" I was at a loss.

"But I'm afraid you would take his view--the Northern view," she mused.



It gave me, suddenly, her meaning. "Oh, the President of the United

States! How you do change the subject!"



Her eyes were upon me, burning with sectional indignation, but she seemed

to be thinking too much to speak. Now, here was a topic that I had



avoided, and she had plumped it at me. Very well; she should have my

view.



"If you mean that a gentleman cannot invite any respectable member of any

race he pleases to dine privately in his house--"



"His house!" She was glowing now with it. I think he is--I think he is--

to have one of them--and even if he likes it, not to remember--cannot



speak about him!" she wound up "I should say unbecoming things." She had

walked out, during these words, from behind the counter and as she stood



there in the middle of the long room you might have thought she was about

to lead a cavalrycharge. Then, admirably, she put it all under, and



spoke on with perfect self-control. "Why can't somebody explain it to him?

If I knew him, I would go to him myself, and I would say, Mr. President,



we need not discuss our different tastes as to dinner company. Nor need

we discuss how much you benefit the colored race by an act which makes



every member of it immediately think that be is fit to dine with any king

in the world. But you are staying in a house which is partly our house,



ours, the South's, for we, too, pay taxes, you know. And since you also

know our deep feeling--you may even call it a prejudice, if it so pleases



you--do you not think that, so long as you are residing in that house,

you should not gratuitously shock our deep feeling?" She swept a



magnificent low curtsy at the air.

"By Jove, Miss La Heu!" I exclaimed, "you put it so that it's rather hard



to answer."

"I'm glad it strikes you so."



"But did it make them all think they were going to dine?"

"Hundreds of thousands. It was proof to them that they were as good as



anybody--just as good, without reading or writing or anything. The very

next day some of the laziest and dirtiest where we live had a new strut,






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